Gemotions

The notice, a stark white rectangle, was plastered on her door. It detailed the pending conversion. Sarah stared at it, the words swimming slightly. She blinked, ran a hand through her hair, and then touched the worn brass of the doorknob as if checking the solidity of the apartment itself. Her stomach felt hollow, like she’d skipped a meal.

She grabbed her keys and walked downstairs. The lobby, usually bustling, was quiet. Mr. Henderson, the super, was sweeping, his usual jovial expression absent. He nodded stiffly in her direction. She just muttered a greeting and hurried past.

Later, she found herself staring out the window, at the familiar cityscape. Everything looked… different. Sharper, somehow, as if the edges had become defined. She felt a profound sense of instability, a shifting of the ground beneath her feet. The comfortable routine she’d cultivated felt suddenly precarious.